


A Perfect Match

by MenoMonyFalls



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MenoMonyFalls/pseuds/MenoMonyFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I must say, Miss Tyler, your friend is a strikingly handsome man, and such a sharp dresser, too!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CeruleanBlues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanBlues/gifts).



> This is just a bit of absolutely pointless fluff written as a gift to the lovely CeruleanBlues, because I love her art and [this piece of hers](http://ceruleanbluesart.tumblr.com/post/111974035190/i-just-wanna-snuggle-them-rose-eight) inspired this story. Very slight M rating for the ending.

She nods distractedly along to the Duchess’ prattle, watching instead as the door opens and the men finally join the ladies in the drawing room. Her eyes are drawn to the Doctor, chatting pleasantly with the Earl, but Rose knows him well enough to see that his good humor is forced. She understands only too well – he is no doubt starting to feel the same mounting frustration as she is. What had started out as a pleasant, leisurely trip to Victorian England has quickly turned into a vexing enigma involving a seemingly innocent aristocrat, his scheming son-in-law, and an unknown entity which they _think_ is controlling him. The excitement she had initially felt towards this adventure – it had seemed like something out of those old mystery novels the Doctor loves reading to her, and there was the added bonus that her dress was simply _gorgeous_ – has all but been drained out of her by now. She’s had enough of this tight corset, of the polite and insincere chitchat of the other dinner guests, of the strict social norms of that era, forbidding the usually very tactile relationship she has with the Doctor.

She just wants to figure this out and leave.

“I must say, Miss Tyler, your friend is a strikingly handsome man,” the Duchess says, startling Rose out of her sombre thoughts.

She turns around to see the middle-aged lady not so subtly appraising the Doctor’s physique, and Rose has to hide a smile. Victorian women can appreciate a nice bum as well as anyone, apparently.

“Such a sharp dresser, too!” she continues. “I know some people don’t think it appropriate for a man to care about their appearance, but as I said to Lady Edith when we were dining with the Coles – you know them, I’m sure, they have a large estate not far from here. A lovely family, but their house is shockingly poorly managed – as I was saying, I told Lady Edith that…”

Rose tunes out the Duchess as she carries on talking. The Doctor is still talking to the Earl, recounting something in that enthusiastic way of his, the expressiveness of his features making him stand out from the crowd of politely bored faces. At least he isn’t standing out because of his fashion sense, this time, she thinks wryly. She has to repress a chuckle at the thought of the Doctor being called a sharp dresser.

He must sense her watching because he turns towards her, a questioning look on his face. She gives him a small shake of the head before looking back towards the Duchess, trying her best to focus her attention on the woman before her. There is little time to waste, and she knows that she really should be trying to learn as much as she can from the other guests, but… She can’t help it if he is distracting her. He really _is_ the most handsome man there, in Rose’s probably not wholly unbiased opinion. Judging by the glances many of the ladies are sending his way, though, she is not the only one to think so.

She endures another round of pointless chatter with the Duchess and her friends without being able to get more than a few words in edgewise – and without learning anything remotely useful – before she can’t take it anymore and finds an opportunity to excuse herself. She catches the Doctor’s eye as she rises and slips into an empty hallway, and a minute later she hears his footsteps approaching her.

She doesn’t give him time to speak, just wraps her arms around him, finally enjoying the solid feel of him after hours of being deprived of any physical contact. He returns the embrace, holding her tightly against him as a takes a deep breath, his nose in her hair, and she thinks he’s missed touching her, too.

“What is it? Are you alright?” he asks after a moment of silence, his voice muted and gentle.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, her face pressed against his chest. “I just… needed a small break from all of this. Did you manage to get any information from the Earl?”

He sighs, and she feels him shake his head.

“Nothing new, I’m afraid. I’m certain that he knows something is wrong, but he is too proud to admit he needs help. He pretends not to understand me whenever I try to broach the subject. What about you?”

“No, nothing new, either. You’d think that with the amount of gossiping they do, one of the ladies would let something slip, but no. We’re not getting anywhere, Doctor. Maybe we should consider a new approach.”

“What do you have in mind?”

She pulls back as she considers, smoothing her hands down the lapels of his coat, the velvet soft and smooth beneath her fingers.

“You could always try charming one of the ladies into telling you everything she knows,” she suggests, half-serious. “Quite a few have been sending you looks all evening.”

“And you were one of them, if I recall correctly. Not so impervious to my charms yourself, are you, Miss Tyler?” he replies in a husky tone, one of his eyebrows arching up.

It’s ridiculous how easily he’s able to make her blush, simply with his voice and a few suggestive words. She knows that he’s aware of that fact, and that he enjoys it thoroughly, but she can’t help it. He smirks at her as her cheeks redden, and she narrows her eyes at him.

This won’t do.

“ _Yes_ , Doctor, I think you’re very dashing,” she answers, humoring him, before she allows a teasing smile to form on her face. “Of course, it helps that you actually _fit in_ with your surroundings, for once. It might be the first time this has happened since I’ve met you.”

“Rose Tyler, this is pure nonsense. My clothes are timeless, a classic everywhere. I’m offended you would even suggest otherwise.”

He gives her an affronted look, but there is a light dancing in his eyes that only makes her grin widen and laughter bubble out of her. She sends a quick glance up and down the hallway to make sure that they are alone before leaning forward to press her lips to his in a quick kiss. She goes to pull back but his hands clench on her hips, keeping her close as his lips chase after hers, and she melts into him with a sigh. She’s missed this so much. She’s not used to having to restrain herself anymore.

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself, Miss Tyler,” he says when he finally pulls back, frustratingly cool and controlled while _she_ is a flushed, panting mess.

He gives her an appreciative glance that doesn’t help her recover her composure in the slightest, his fingers stroking along the lace at her waist. She bites her lower lip, the urge to just grab him and make a run for the TARDIS so she can have her way with him becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

“You look positively stunning in that dress, Rose. You should wear it more often. Look how well we match.”

He turns her over in his arms, and she sees their reflection in the large mirror hanging in the hallway opposite them. They _do_ look good together, him in his usual green velvet coat and grey cravat, her in a lovely blue dress with lace trimmings.

“Like characters of a Jane Austen novel,” she replies. He hums in agreement, lowering his head to press a kiss to her temple, his hands wrapping around her waist from behind. She smiles and closes her eyes, relaxing in his embrace.

“So am I the Mr. Darcy to you Elizabeth Bennet, then? The Henry Tilney to your Catherine Morland? Or am I rather the villain in this story?”

She is about to answer when a scream reaches them from the drawing room, making her eyes fly open in surprise. Their gazes meet in the mirror, an identical expression of alarm and excitement on their face.

“I believe you mentioned a new approach?”

“Yeah. Time to try something more direct, don’t you think?” she replies with a grin.

“Right you are. Now, I suggest we run!”

He takes her hand, and together they rush towards the source of the commotion.

* * *

They’re back inside the TARDIS, having saved the Earl and his dinner party all in one fell swoop.

“I take back what I said,” the Doctor groans as he blindly tugs on the laces of her corset, too busy kissing a trail up her neck to look down at his hands.

“Wha –?” she breathes out, distracted by the graze of his teeth against her earlobe and the play of his muscles underneath her fingers as she runs them down his back.

“Your clothes. As gorgeous as you look in them, you could already be naked and writhing under me by now if it wasn’t for this wretched dress.”

She shivers at his murmur in her ear, a fresh wave of lust running through her. She loves it when he talks like this, his honeyed voice positively dripping with sin – another thing he knows and isn’t hesitant to use against her.

“No, no, you’re right,” she tries to retort, the breathiness of her voice and her fingers dipping almost uncontrollably lower betraying her in her attempt to tease him. “I think I’ll always wear this from now on. In fact, I think I saw a dress with even more lacing than this one, in the wardrobe room. Sure, it will take an hour to put on and take off again, but as long as we match, it will be worth –”

He silences her by capturing her lips, kissing her so thoroughly everything else disappears, her entire world narrowing down to urgency and need. She cups him through his trousers and he rewards her with a growl, tugging on the laces so hard that it rips the material of her dress. Her gasp transforms into a moan when he lowers his head to the newly revealed skin.

Later, when she’s lost to everything that isn’t pleasure, when she’s almost forgotten her own name, he whispers, “We’ll always match, Rose,” just before he sinks into her body at the same time as into her mind. “See? Perfect.”


End file.
